


Graduation Eve

by Bryony (REBB)



Series: 6x9 [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M, Lake Victoria, Lemon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 23:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/REBB/pseuds/Bryony
Summary: On the night before their graduation from Lake Victoria, Zechs and Noin indulge in a drink and (ahem) a few other things.





	Graduation Eve

**Author's Note:**

> From 2014. I remain rather fond of this fic. :)
> 
> According to a GW timeline I consulted around the time of writing this, Zechs and Noin graduated Lake Victoria Academy in AC 189 at the age of 13. Since 13 seems *way* younger than the cadets Noin is seen instructing in-series, I'm going with AC 194 as their graduation year, making Zechs and Noin aged 18 here and eliding their graduation with a two-rank promotion Zechs apparently received that year.

With a flourish, Zechs produced a bottle of extravagantly expensive single malt scotch and put it down on the table between them. "A gift," he announced as he sat down across from her, "from His Excellency."

"My goodness," Noin remarked, reaching out to examine the bottle. "That seems a bit over the top, even for his favorite student."

Zechs' wince was visible, even from beneath his mask. Noin struggled not to grin, not quite succeeding. She knew how much Zechs hated to be reminded of the blatant favoritism Treize displayed for him -- not undeserved, but uncomfortably easy to dismiss as being a result of their relationship outside the Academy.

Noin tilted the bottle back towards him. "Are you going to try it, or is it being saved for a special occasion?"

"I can't imagine a more appropriate occasion than the eve of our graduation," Zechs told her. "Can you?"

She shrugged. She'd wondered if he (or at the very least, if Treize) might not have had in mind the day -- whenever it came -- that Zechs managed to reclaim his kingdom, but if he wasn't going to bring it up then neither was she. "Better grab a couple of glasses then."

They were in the cadets' lounge, two in a graduating class of a hundred and fifty. The younger students had already departed with the end of term, leaving the Academy base feeling eerily empty. A smattering of their classmates were in the lounge with them, but many had gone off base to make their celebrations elsewhere.

Zechs helped himself to two glasses from behind the unmanned bar and returned with them and a small pitcher of water. Noin watched him with a tiny smile on her face. After tonight there was no knowing when they would be seeing each other again, at least not like this, unprofessionally. Catching her eye, Zechs returned her smile with one of his own, but it was impossible to know the truth of his expression without seeing behind his mask.

Zechs unstoppered the bottle of whiskey and poured two modest glasses, topping up each with a small splash of water. His slid one across the table to Noin, who raised it to him with a grin. "Congratulations, Lieutenant-Colonel."

Zechs' expression faltered and he put down his glass without drinking. Noin frowned and followed suit. "What is it?" she asked, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"You shouldn't have let me win that match, Noin."

Noin was about to get angry, but then she just burst out laughing instead. "Oh, Zechs," she sighed. "I know you won't believe me, but I didn't. You won, fair and square. You _deserve_ the top ranking."

The sliver of Zechs' face that Noin could see looked very grim, his mouth downturned in an angry line. "And what about you, Noin? You're a fine solder; you deserve more than -" he gestured round them "- _this_."

"I'll have you know I'm very satisfied with my assignment, actually," Noin said softly, somewhat offended, although she didn't want to be. "Treize Khushrenada himself served as an instructor here; why should you then expect it to hold me back in any way?"

"Treize Khushrenada was using his post here to more effectively lead his newly-formed Specials unit, which he was also regularly leading into battle -- something that you will not be doing."

Noin stared out across the room over Zechs' shoulder, chewing her lip and trying to calm herself. "That's true," she acknowledged. And maybe she did feel a tiny bit resentful, overlooked for promotion, but that wasn't going to stop her. She had big plans for this place. And training the soldiers of tomorrow, that was a big responsibility -- one that she would take pride in. "But, Zechs… I don't know how to make you understand…our priorities are different. Look, I don't want to spend this evening arguing. I want to celebrate. I'm proud to be graduating as one of the top two all time students of the Academy. And I'm only made prouder sharing that honor with one of my dearest friends, who also deserves it. My only regret…is that you'll probably get to see outer space again before I do."

At last Zechs seemed to give in, turning his head to avoid her gaze. "I'll report back to you," he said, and raised his glass again.

Noin clinked it with hers and took a sip. The whiskey had a smoky, peaty taste, the burn of the alcohol diluted just enough by the water to bring out the fullness of the flavors -- but it was smooth drinking. "That's really good shit," she said with a gasp.

"His Excellency has impeccable taste."

"Hmm. _Excellent_ , even."

It was a tired old joke, but it brought a slow involuntary smirk to Zechs' lips, which softened to a smile as they drank and he topped up their glasses.

It was a mellow, warm, sleepy intoxication the whiskey brought, spreading from Noin's belly to her limbs like a liquid glow. She rolled her head back on her shoulders and shut her eyes in contentment. "This place needs music. That's the first thing I'm going to do in my new role: install a jukebox."

"It's going to take more than that to make this place sufferable."

"I like it. I know it's shabby, but it's…home." She opened her eyes again. "We're not all used to the grander things in life," she teased.

"You're nobility."

"Yes, but not like…" She gestured vaguely. Towards certain absent students they both knew. Towards Treize. Zechs would know who she meant. "My father has a title, not income. We own a farm, the remnants of an estate that's been sold off piece by piece for centuries to keep the family coffers from emptying."

Rowdy laughter rose up a few tables away from them, interrupting the flow of their conversation before dying back down. Zechs looked over, then back at her. "They're children," he said, his voice laden with scorn. "Soon they'll just be cannon fodder." Noin's stomach gave a sick lurch at his words. She hated that he was right. It was a conversation that they'd had many times. The Alliance had no respect for its soldiers' lives. When she'd had her hopes pinned on being assigned to command, it had been in part so she would be able to lead in a different way. But instructing at Lake Victoria would, she knew, in its own way allow her to accomplish the same goal. One way or another, _her_ soldiers wouldn't die. She stared down at her fists clenched on the table until Zechs surprised her by covering one of them with his own hand. It rested on top of hers, a warm and heavy weight. He leaned in towards her. "Noin…" he said, and then stopped, awkwardly silent.

"Yes?" she pressed. "Go on."

He gestured helplessly towards the students at the other table. "I know that we have different feelings about…all this. I didn't come here to make friends, as you know. Meeting you was a blessing I neither expected nor deserve. No matter what the future holds after tomorrow, I just wanted to say how grateful I've been, to know you."

Noin was unexpectedly touched by the confession. She twisted her hand in Zechs' grip so she could return it in kind. She looked up at him, but that damn mask was still in the way. "I want to see your face again," she told him.

Zechs' fingers twitched around hers. He was silent, and Noin thought he was going to ignore what she'd said. But then he replied, "Not here."

She nodded, and they gathered up their things. Zechs tucked the bottle of whiskey under his arm and pinched the two glasses between his fingers. They walked slowly into the corridor, neither one taking a lead. "Where do you want to go?" Noin asked presently. She had the uncanny feeling they both knew what was going to happen next, although they were neither one quite sure how to get there.

"Do you still want music?"

She shrugged and nodded. "Sure."

"What kind?"

She leaned back against the wall. "Something slow. Jazz. Blues… Something with a saxophone."

"All right." Abruptly he nodded and began walking again. Noin had to hurry to catch up. It did not take long for her to understand they were going to Zechs' room. They drank more of the whiskey on the way, tiny sips directly from the bottle that burned all the way down. Noin thought about what His Excellency would think if he saw them treating Zechs' gift in this way and began to laugh, stifling it into hiccupping giggles. Zechs looked at her strangely, which only made her laugh more.

"We're here," he told her, unlocking the door to his room and letting her in.

It was mostly stripped bare already. Two packed trunks sat ready and waiting at the door. Apart from the bed and desk -- both pieces of furniture provided with the room -- and Zechs' dress uniform hanging by the door in readiness for tomorrow, the only thing remaining unpacked was an antique looking stereo with a large gramophone horn extending from it. "Wow," Noin commented when she saw it. "Another gift?"

Zechs gave her a brief, unreadable look as he went to it and, after some consideration, selected a record to put on. Crackling soft, slow music filled the room -- just what she'd requested: a solo saxophonist playing a melancholy tune.

Still facing away from her, Zechs removed his mask and set it down on the desk. The thud it made sounded somehow very final to Noin's ears. He turned around. Noin stared at him. It was only the second time she had seen Zechs without his mask since he'd begun to wear it, the first being when he had admitted to her the truth of who he was. It was more than a year since then, and his face had changed, grown, become handsome. She couldn't help it; she went to him, reached for him, gently, gently taking his face between her hands and tracing it with her thumbs. "I pray for the day that you no longer have to hide your face," she told him, tears for all that he'd been through clogging her voice.

It wasn't clear to Noin who initiated that first kiss, merely that it happened -- and then kept happening. Deep, leisurely, sloppy kisses that tasted of whiskey and smoke, and filled her with a heat she hadn't felt before, kissing other boys. It grabbed her belly and pulled down into her, deep. It tickled, some kind of phantom itch that needed to be satisfied. Noin let out a tiny need-filled moan. The kisses became breathless and hungry. Noin felt as if she was trying to devour Zechs, all the way down to his essence. She pulled him closer to her, tangled her hands in his hair, pressed herself against him. She could feel him getting hard through the thin fabric of their uniform trousers and ground her body against his.

Zechs' hands felt hot against her back, but they sent shivers down her spine as they moved against her, round to her sides, tickling her ribs, and then tentatively upwards to brush against her breasts.

Noin moved to tug off his jacket, and then, suddenly, he drew back. She froze instinctively. "What is it?" she asked again. "What's wrong?"

"Noin…" His hands rested loosely round her shoulders, not letting go, but keeping her distant. "Are you sure?"

Relief made her giddy and she broke into a laugh. "Of course I'm sure." She started to reach for his jacket again, then stopped herself, giving Zechs a probing, suspicious look. "Are _you_ sure?"

His only answer was to pull her back to him.

Noin relaxed back into the moment, arching into Zechs' touch as he kissed her deeply, one of his hands dropping to squeeze her buttock while the other passed lingeringly over her breast on its way to the buttons fastening her uniform at her neck.

Their movements acquired a greater urgency as they moved instinctively towards the bed and began, eagerly, to undress each other. Noin gasped as Zechs' tongue, and then his teeth, found her nipple and she could feel the electric sensation run along her nerves all the way through her body.

He roamed lower, running his hands up and down her legs before finally spreading them gently apart to give himself access to her cunt. Noin lifted her head to watch what he would do. He glanced briefly up to meet her eye; one hand was wrapped around his cock and pumping slowly as he surveilled her head to toe, then bent his head back to his task.

It didn't feel like much of anything at first, but then as if by chance Zechs' tongue did something -- brushed against something -- and Noin sharply sucked in her breath as that electric sensation ran through her again. Zechs paused, then repeated the motion almost teasingly and evoked the same response. He proceeded purposefully from there, with the same drive she recognized from dueling with him, when he knew he was about to win. But it became too difficult for Noin to think properly after that. She lost her awareness of Zechs and even of herself, and became only feeling, only sensation.

She could tell, vaguely, that she was making helpless sounds; that her legs were trembling beyond her control -- that _this_ was the feeling she had never quite achieved when masturbating on her own. Her fingers clutched spasmodically at the bedsheets. Her hips bucked. The electric tingle was growing into something more, something that felt almost solid and hot growing inside of her, reaching tendrils of feeling from her clitoris upwards -- building, building until it suddenly crashed in a wave all along her body. For a long second she was nothing but light, lightning. And then it ebbed slowly away, dying flickers reaching up her every time she moved, until she was herself again.

 _So that's an orgasm_ , she thought, quite pleased.

Zechs' hands were stroking her thighs. She lifted her head again and met his eyes and smiled down at him. He kissed the inside of her leg, looking a bit smug.

"Come here," she commanded him, and he obeyed. They kissed and she could taste herself on his lips. She reached down to grasp Zechs' cock -- he groaned at her touch -- and told him, "I want you in me."

She felt him twitch in her hand, but his face looked suddenly sheepish.

It was so strange being able to see his expression, to be able to read his face, she thought, even as she frowned.

"I don't have a condom," he admitted, glancing ruefully at his packed bags. "I didn't think I'd need one before tomorrow."

"…Oh." Noin frowned in thought. She did have condoms -- but in her room, which was practically on the other side of the base. She continued frowning, knowing she was being reckless in a way she'd always told herself she wouldn't be when she asked, "Are you clean?"

"Er, yes," Zechs replied, looking startled, and Noin couldn't help but grin again. She suspected he was just as clean and inexperienced as she was.

"Well, I'm on birth control, so…" She shrugged expressively. Then added, "But I swear: if I find out you've given me the clap, I will ruin you."

Zechs laughed, looking at her wonderingly. "Deal." Then, with some of his earlier tentativeness, he trailed a hand down her face, and kissed her again.

Noin flipped their positions so she could straddle him and slowly, carefully guided his penis into her, watching his face all the while; all of the minute changes of expression, the intensity of concentration and of pleasure as she slowly, slowly enveloped him. She paused when the full length of Zechs' cock was inside her, adjusting to the feel of it. It wasn't painful, as she'd thought it might be, just a bit uncomfortable for a few moments until she learned to relax around the intrusion. She felt good; she felt at ease, the same feeling of calm control she felt climbing into the cockpit of her mobile suit.

She kept the pace slow, at first the better to learn Zechs' reactions to the slight movements of her hips, the contractions and relaxation of her muscles. But eventually this just became teasing and Zechs rebelled against her, rolling them over again to regain the upper hand. Noin found she was happy to surrender, wrapping her legs around his waist and drawing him in close. With a low growl Zechs began to increase the speed of his thrusts until he was pounding in and out of her with abandon, finally finishing by pushing himself into her extra deep and hard. Zechs buried his face into her neck and collapsed bonelessly on top of her after he came, panting and trembling.

"Noin," he whispered against her skin between breaths, squeezing her close, "Noin. Noin, I think I love you."

Noin couldn't help but laugh at the grandiose sentiment, but the ticklish thrill the words gave her was undeniable. She ran her hands from his forehead through his hair, stroked his skin, still slick with sweat, the way she would a cat. "Me too," she whispered back and wrapped her arms around him. Zechs lifted his head and kissed her again.

They lay, still clutching each other tightly, for some time, and Noin thought about how this felt like the start of something new between them, come what may tomorrow and in the days to come.

It would be one year and twenty-two days until she saw Zechs again, and by that time the Gundams would have landed and nothing would ever be quite the same again.


End file.
